“Papa lived nearly a year; but the last nine months he was in bed, and he never spoke a loud word after that birthday night when we had been so happy in the study.  He died in November, on a dreary stormy day.  I never shall forget it.  He had seemed easier that morning, and insisted on our all going out to breakfast together and leaving him alone, the doors being open between the study and the dining-room.  We had hardly seated ourselves at the table when his bell rang.  Aunt Abby reached him first.  It could not have been a minute, but he did not know her.  For the first and only time in my life I forgot Nat, and was out of the room when I heard him sob.  Dear Nat! not even then would he think of himself.  I turned back.  ’Oh, don’t stop to take me, Dot,’ he said.  ‘Run!’ But I could not; and when I reached the door, pushing his chair before me, all was over.  However, the doctor said that, even if we had been there at the first, papa could not have bid us good-by; that the death was from instantaneous suffocation, and that he probably had no consciousness of it himself.  Papa’s life had been insured for five thousand dollars and he had saved, during the three years we had lived at Maynard’s Mills, about one thousand more.  This was all the money we had in the world.

“Mr. Maynard had been very kind throughout papa’s illness.  He had persuaded the church to continue the salary; every day he had sent flowers, and grapes, and wine, and game, and everything he could think of that papa could eat; and, what was kindest of all, he had come almost every day to talk with him and cheer him up.  But he did not mean to let his kindness stop here.  The day after the funeral he came to see us, to propose to adopt me.  I forgot to say that Aunt Abby was to be married soon and would take little Abby with her; so they were provided for, and the only question was about Nat and me.

“Fortunately, dear Nat was in the dining-room and did not see Mr. Maynard when he came.  I have told you what a merry man Mr. Maynard is, and how kind he is, but he is also a very obstinate and high-tempered man.  He had never loved Nat; I do not know why; I think he was the only human being who ever failed to love him.  He pitied him, of course; but he was so repelled by his deformity that he could not love him.  As soon as Mr. Maynard said, ’Now, my dear child, you must come to my house and make it your home always,’ I saw that he intended to separate me from Nat.

“I replied, ’I cannot leave Nat, Mr. Maynard.  I thank you very much; you are very good; but it would break my heart to leave him, and I am sure papa would never forgive me if I should do it.’

“He made a gesture of impatience.  He had foreseen this, and come prepared for it; but he saw that I promised to prove even more impracticable than he had feared.

“’You have sacrificed your whole life already to that miserable unfortunate boy,’ he said, ’and I always told your father he ought not to permit it.’